Poison
by PixiesCanFly
Summary: A series of drabbleish oneshots about the twisted relationships between various deatheaters. Chapters so far: 5 LVBL, NMLM, HPDM, BLRL and others
1. Chapter 1

"My Lord,"

"On your knees." Her eyes filled with fear. A smiled flickered over my lips. Power surged into me, swirling through me. My fist tightened slightly, almost invisibly. She would not see how I felt. I was prefect, unassailable to her. My power was absolute. She fell to her knees, dropping her eyes to the ground in submission. She did not dare even to look at me.

She was giving in to me, giving everything to my power. Good. This was how it should be. Obedience, coupled with fear, there was nothing greater in the world. I breathed in, the scent of her fear assailing my nostrils, widening the smile on my lips. I flexed my fingers, reaching across for my wand. Holding it between my fingers, feeling the rough surface, knowing the pain and power encased in it. Still she knelt in front of me, wishing, but too proud to beg, to proud to plead. How perfect she was. I stepped forward, wrenching her head up by the hair so her black eyes met mine, holding my wand at her throat. Defiance and pride shone in her aristocratic features. She did not shake, did not shiver, or cry out. She did not even move, no sign of fear made its way past her shields.

I reached out with one long finger, running it across the smooth, pale skin of her face. She did not flinch at my touch. Her eyes filled with a blank darkness that showed she was hiding her emotions from me. Good. I enjoy a challenge.

"Good Bella. But remember who it is that you serve. Who it is that is your master." She blinked, keeping the impassive façade in place. I swung back an arm and stuck her. She fell sideways under the force of the blow, her shields failing only for a second. She remained on the floor, pride still holding back any sign of pain. Blood trickled from a cut in her mouth, falling onto the dark floor. I bent, dragging her head up by the hair.

"Say it," I snarled.

"I serve you. You are my master." She whispered, still holding her shields in place, her face blank and impassive. Her talent for hiding emotions was brilliant, almost equal to my own.

"Good." I hissed back before reaching out. I wiped the blood from her lips with my thumb and leaned in, kissing her harshly. She submitted immediately, allowing my access to every part of her. The salt taste of blood was tangy on my tongue when I withdrew, smiling again.

"You may go." I said, returning to my seat. She leapt to her feet and strode from the chamber, cloak rippling behind her, head held high, dropping her shields a second before she left. I saw in her mind that she had loved it just as much as I had. Good. I only lived to serve her anyway.

"Until next time, my dark one, my Bellatrix." I hissed at her retreating back.


	2. Chapter 2

"Can you not learn to love me?" His voice was cold, desolate, but the desperation was clear in his face. She stood before him, cold and distant, holding herself out of his reach. Her voice chilled him to the bone almost as much as her reply as she answered him.

"Never." His eyes fell as the realization that he could never have his greatest desire crashed over him. She watched him break before her, so much for Malfoy pride, so much for their strength and passion. He had been easy to break, too easy. She tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder but otherwise remained motionless, watching his downfall. Her face shone with triumph, pride etched into every feature. She was the one who had broken the Malfoy, ruined him in fact. The beginnings of a rare smile began to grace her usually emotionless face. Suddenly his eyes snapped up, seeming to flash red with anger, not their usual grey calm. Now there was a storm raging behind the windows. His voice cut through her like a whip.

"Then I will make you hate me with such a passion that it is almost love," he snarled, his face holding such a repressed rage at this rejection that she averted her gaze. This was all her pureblood pride allowed her to do. She was superior to him, and she knew it. How infuriating it was for a Malfoy to be snubbed by the likes of her, a lowly Black. How could he ever face the rest of the pureblood world again? Anger boiled inside him. How could she dare to deny him?

Her head jerked back as he struck her, the force of the blow sending her reeling backwards onto the sofa. Her eyes snapped open as he struck again and again, reigning blows down on her, lost to the fury within. She held back retaliation, emotion, everything. Pureblood women did not cry, they did not show that they had been beaten. She held her head up high; she would not give him the satisfaction of showing hate on her face. That was what he wanted after all. And no matter what he did to her she always would have the memory of the time that she, a Black, had mastered the great and powerful Lord Lucius Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Black silk. Black lace. Black velvet. Always in black. Always in mourning. It didn't help that she looked amazing in black. Of course she did, she was Arianne Zabini. Arianne Zabini, a beautiful witch who was always in the papers. The famous widow, murderess some called her, he simply called her beautiful.

The earth on the grave was still fresh, barely covering the body thrown deep below when the door of the study of Walden Macnair opened and she stepped inside. Black robes encased her beautiful body, covering more flesh than he would have liked. His eyes passed calmly over her, from her muddy shoes to her wet face to her impeccable make-up. He sighed.

"Another?" She nodded, her black hair cascading in a scented waterfall over her shoulders, nudged from it's bindings by this simple motion. A smile slipped across her blood red lips, drawing his gaze from her dark eyes. He stood, flexing his shoulders and left his pen on the desk, ink leaking all over his current work. Faster than light his arms were encircling her and his lips were pressed against hers in a fierce and passionate kiss. Frenzied minutes passed until they were standing out in the dark night, a cold wind whipping around them. His arms loosed their grip on her as she fell to the ground on a mound of newly turned earth. She reached her now bare arms up and dragged him down onto her, reaching up and once again capturing his lips in a burning kiss…

Later he sat up, shivering in the cold of the night as the moon shone down on the two of them and the earth that they sat on. He leant back, his back colliding with an icy, newly carved stone. Turning he saw the engraving.

_Marcus Blaise Zabini_

_Beloved husband and father_

_Born 17__th__ October 1955 _

_Died 15__th__ August 1981_

He looked from the engraving to the beautiful woman fast asleep next to him. Reaching down, he ran his fingers through the tendrils of black falling from her skull.

"I'd marry you in a moment, my Arianne, I love you enough, but death is not what I want from your hands,"


	4. Chapter 4

Perfect, fragile but strong, ghostly white hands dragged him back. Harry Potter choked as those same hands encircled his throat, squeezing too tightly for comfort and thrust him against the wall in the shadows of the statue. He struggled against his attacked, fighting for freedom only to be held tighter by the throat.

Suddenly there was a face, right next to his. Pale blond hair and grey eyes and perfect white skin, matching the hands were too close for comfort. Harry's breath caught in his constricted throat and he felt the warmth of a body pressing against his.

"Potter," the voice said, quietly in his ear, almost too quietly to hear, "I've heard you think you're the best. You arrogant prick."

Fingers tightened around his throat as lips met his, rough and harsh. Painful. He writhed, trying to get away, but the attacker was in full control. He bit down hard on Harry's lip and tightened his grip on the other's neck still further. Nails tore into flesh and hot blood began to trickle down through the other's fingers. Finally the onslaught was over.

"See Potter. Nobody, and I mean _nobody _is better than a Malfoy. I hope you've learnt your lesson." The boy spat at him, knocking him to the floor before turning and stalking down the corridor, leaving Harry on the floor, unable to breath, with bleeding lips and neck.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Crucio"_

Pain laced screams, echoing louder and louder through the chamber along with crazed laughter, impossible to block out. Bellatrix bit the inside of her cheek, holding the image of sadistic enjoyment on her face that she had trained there for so many years as a Pureblood in Slytherin. The mark on her arm was flaring as her lord laughed and tortured him, her Rodolphus.

Him. The centre of her world. The light of her universe. She was so lucky to have him. Most women of her class, of her calibre were forced into arranged marriages by the time they turned 21. She'd met him before that. She'd gotten to choose her own husband, marry for love. Of course her parents had approved, that had helped a lot. But how could they not have approved. He was perfect.

Obviously their Lord didn't think so. How could that be? How could their Lord, in his infinite wisdom and power hurt something so beautiful, something so perfect? It just couldn't be.

And as she watched her love, her husband, writhing on the floor under the wand of the Lord that she had sworn her fealty to forever something inside her mind seemed to snap. The two strands of her brain, love and loyalty, split, dividing her in two and sending her falling spiralling into madness.


End file.
